


hands from heaven

by hoegeta



Series: reasons why I'm going to hell [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, I think????, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, idk lmao, or just regular humping if it's without clothes in the way???, this is filthy lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegeta/pseuds/hoegeta
Summary: Of all the problems Cloud has, hiding his erection from his unbelievably hot masseuse should not be one of them.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: reasons why I'm going to hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842454
Comments: 11
Kudos: 135





	hands from heaven

**Author's Note:**

> im going through some shit and the only way i know how to cope is to write filthy self-indulgent smut
> 
> cant stop thinking about tifas exotic dress and the luxury course massage scene help please

Cloud has been best friends with Zack for about a couple of years now. In those years, Zack has had about two good ideas, tops. Three if Cloud thinks really hard and is feeling generous enough.

This is not one of those ideas.

Quite the opposite, actually. It had seemed so enticing to him, when Zack was outlining their coming night out in Wall Market. They’re young men who’ve been submerged to the brim with stress, especially from the higher ups at Shinra. And they both thought they deserved an outing of debauchery and sin in the famed pleasure district of Midgar. The massage place Zack had gushed about sounded even better, because Cloud’s entire body is wound up taut, his muscles aching and crying out for relief. He needs a massage. Very much so.

Right now, in aforementioned massage parlor, he’s rethinking all of his life’s choices. Like why he agreed to come here. Why Zack thought it would be a good idea to come here.

See, Cloud has a problem.

His masseuse is _really fucking hot_.

“Take off your clothes,” she had said to him, and he nearly exploded right then and there. The words were spoken professionally, but they were still smudged with a hint of kindness, the soft smile that played at her lips tasting like honey on his tongue. A fire was ignited in him then, the flames licking down his veins, and he knew he wouldn’t survive this night.

She stepped out of the room, slid the door shut to give him his privacy. And now, he peels his clothes off, first his shirt and then his jeans. He leaves on his briefs, and he settles onto the table, the leather cool and nearly refreshing against his chest. Like this, he can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, hard against his throat.

“I’m f—finished.”

Damn. He stuttered. He’s a mess.

The door slides open. Tifa comes in, and he can’t bear to look at her. The kimono she wears is short, barely enough to cover her backside. It’s black silk patterned in pretty, pink flowers, her face painted lightly in similar colors to match. The neck of it dips low to reveal the swell of her breasts, and Cloud hates himself because he can’t stop fucking looking at them. He hasn’t ever seen tits as perfect as hers. The fact that the kimono is tied tight around her body, putting every curve and dip of her body on display, does not help matters.

He decides he hates Zack. This was a terrible idea.

“Ready?” Tifa asks, and her smile, soft on her rosy lips, is killing him. Her voice is soothing, dipped in a bit of husk, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t give to hear that same voice caught around a pleasured moan.

Fuck. _Fuck_. Of all the problems Cloud has, hiding his erection from his unbelievably hot masseuse should not be one of them.

“Y—yeah,” he answers. He leans his head on his pillowed arms, and he tries to relax. This is a massage. It’s supposed to be relaxing.

It’s anything but. Tifa’s hands feel like absolute heaven on his skin. They’re cool from the thin layer of oil, and they work into him, first her fingers, and then her knuckles, and then her palms. She starts at his neck and shoulders, rubbing into them with a harshness that feels near orgasmic to his tightly-knitted muscles.

It takes all of his fucking control not to writhe and moan under her.

But it’s hard. And what else is hard? His fucking dick.

Damn it. Goddamn it. Every touch of hers sinks right down into the pit of his stomach, stirring up the already-building tension there. His toes are curling. His hands are clenched into fists. He’s biting at his bottom lip as her fingers trail down his spine, riding the bumped curve.

The moan spills past his lips without his permission. His eyes shoot open.

“Did you like that?” Tifa asks, and she nearly sings the words. Cloud doesn’t know if he should kill himself or Zack later. The embarrassment is a loud drum in his ears, and he can’t even bear to answer her. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural to moan during a massage, especially when you’re as wound up as you are.”

Right. Okay. He doesn’t feel much better. He’s still mortified. He wonders if all of her male clients also get fucking erections during her massages.

Tifa continues, and it’s like torture to him. He has to stick this out; he did pay for the luxury course, after all (because of fucking Zack). Her hands move further down his back, slick with oil as she rubs into his skin. Soon, she hits the hem of his boxers and where the towel is draped on his lower body. And her hands slide back up his spine, slow, excruciatingly slow, before they stop at his neck, her fingers tickling the skin at his nape.

He lets out a staggered breath, his back arching under her.

“Did you like that too?”

Maybe he’s going crazy, but her voice has lost the edge of kindness, instead adopting a deep kind of purr. Is she...is she _teasing_ him?

“Y—yeah...”

She leans in close, and the hot wash of her breath on his ear makes him tremble.

“You wanna turn around for me?”

_No_. No, no, no, no, oh _no_. If he turns around, she’ll see the _situation_ in his boxers, and she’ll call him a filthy pervert, and she’ll kick him out, and he’ll be banned from ever coming here again—

“I wanna make you feel good.”

_Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god._

He must be dreaming. Tifa, beautiful, busty, goddess masseuse Tifa, is _flirting_ with him? No. He’s dreaming. He has to be.

He cranes his neck to look at her, and there’s a smirk pulling at one end of her mouth, lazy and full of dark promise.

He truly can’t believe this.

He turns around, careful to keep the towel draped on his hips and legs. Arms at his sides, he looks up at Tifa, and the direct image of her has sweat licking at his brow, his heart hammering in his chest. She’s beautiful, achingly so, her body one that’ll cloud his late-night fantasies from now on. Her hands are small and delicate, her fingers pale and thin, and she rests them on his chest, her pinkies dangerously near his nipples. She goes down, smoothing her palms over the ridges of his abdomen, and he’s thinking that the massage part is over.

The _luxury_ part starts now.

She moves the towel away, her eyes trained directly on the tent in his boxers, pulling taut against the fabric.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her finger drawing teasing circles around his belly button. “I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Frankly, there’s nothing he wants more right now than her hands on his body. He feels like he’s on fire, Tifa’s words and drifting touches adding fuel to the flames. This isn’t how he expected this massage to end up, him hot and bothered for his unbearably beautiful masseuse.

He’s not complaining. Actually, he’s thanking whatever deity is in the sky for finally showering him with some good fucking luck.

“I—I...” Her fingertips dip into the waistband of his boxers, pulling it back only to let it snap against his skin, and he jolts, feeling even more tense and wound up than he did before the massage. Only this time, the culprit isn’t stress. “You can...”

“I can?” she asks, tilting her hand to the side. Her hands go down to his thighs, just barely missing where he wants her touch the most. “I can what? Tell me.”

Damn it. Fuck. Shit. _God_. He seriously cannot believe his luck. He’s probably the luckiest fucking man alive.

“T—touch me.”

“Where, sweetheart?”

She’s enjoying this. The smirk is still lightly carved into one side of her mouth, the red irises of her eyes waltzing with thin, yellow wisps of candlelight. Tifa’s entire being is swathed in liquid gold from the candles, and it’s mesmerizing, her expression, her hands on him. The sleeve of her kimono which is drifting further and further down her shoulder with every movement.

The slightest brush of her palm on his cock, so quick he barely registers it.

“Here?”

She’s evil. _Evil_.

“Yes,” he breathes. “More. Please.”

This satisfies her. Her hands go to take off his briefs, and he gladly lifts his hips a bit to help her. Once the last of the fabric on his body is off, his cock is free, hard and leaning against his lower stomach. It’s truly embarrassing, how aroused he is after just a few touches. It’s Tifa, he thinks. Her effect on him is drastic.

Her smirk stays glued to her mouth as she touches his thighs, the inner skin of them, then up to his pelvis, her nails lightly tracing the shape of the bone. She’s so close he can feel her breath, a warm fan against his skin. His toes are curling, his hands clenching into fists, going manic with the anticipation. She’s so close yet so, _so_ far.

“Tifa,” he whines, and seriously, he’s _so_ embarrassing. The pleasure and his fervent desire to unravel at her hands are both marring his better judgment. “Please.”

Finally, finally, her hand is on him. It’s slick with oil as it wraps around his cock, starting at the base and moving up, her pace grueling, torturous. The wave of pleasure that crashes over his entire body is nearly paralyzing, and he’s terribly greedy for more, more of her touch, more of _her_.

Her thumb brushes at the head of him, catching the bead of precum that had formed there. She pumps him up and down, slow and stoking the fire burning within the pit of his stomach. Cloud clutches the wood of the table under him, his legs falling further open, his pulse wild in his throat.

“Look at me.”

Meeting her eyes has his body curling, a wicked tremor skating down his spine. He watches her untie her kimono, the fabric coming apart on her torso. She wears no bra, and her breasts are bare for him to see, his eyes shamelessly drinking in the sight. Her nipples are pink and hard, and _god_ , he wishes he could touch them, roll them between his fingers, suck on them.

She climbs onto the table, her legs around him, and his excitement is palpable. She’s straddling him, her kimono pushed aside to reveal the fact that she isn’t wearing any panties. He can’t stop staring at her thighs, at the wetness gathered between them, catching the candlelight, at pink, slick lips, barely millimeters away from his cock.

God. _God_. He still can’t believe his luck.

She splays her hands on his abdomen, leaning on him as she slowly lowers her hips onto him, her lower lips meeting his cock. It isn’t sex, but still, his mind goes blank, the colors of the room swirling about like paint in water. _Wet_. Tifa is wet and hot on him as she rubs herself on his cock, her pace beginning to quicken. He watches her, the bounce of her breasts, the way her pretty, pink lips are parted, a red flush bled into her cheeks. She’s achingly beautiful, on top of him, rubbing herself on his cock.

Cloud, soon, isn’t able to handle it, the slickness of her arousal, his cock coated in it as she moves herself back and forth. Out of her mouth come quiet moans, music in his ears, singing through his veins. He grits his teeth, his hands desperately gripping her thighs as the pleasure bubbles inside of him, one more rub of her throwing him over the edge. Cloud comes with a long whine, his vision splashed in white stars, his body trembling as he comes apart, all over his thighs and all over Tifa. He’s still shaking even as he falls from the high, his breathing rough and deep, his chest caving in on itself.

He looks at Tifa. She’s smirking, her teeth biting at her lower lip.

“God, you’re so cute when you come.”

That statement alone, he thinks, is enough to get him hard again.

He’s had his release, evident with the mess of cum he made. But Tifa hasn’t had hers yet.

And he’s awestruck, watching her as her hand snakes between her thighs. He watches her fingers move between her legs, relishing in her quiet moans. Her, on top of him, touching herself, and he has the perfect view.

God. Fucking _god_.

She moves her fingers away, wet with her arousal, and she holds them in front of his lips. He’s very quick to poke his tongue out, lapping at her wetness; she tastes sweet, a bit tangy, and he goes mad with it, sucking on her fingers as if he can’t get enough.

She hums happily. “Mm, good boy.”

What he wouldn’t do to have her straddling his face instead of his lap right around now.

“Uh...” he begins, and god, does he have the nerve? Should he ask this? Is it okay? He just wants to make her feel good, to taste more of her. “C—can you...”

“What is it, love?” she asks, her fingertips flirting down his jaw. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Can you ride my face?”

Tifa’s eyes go a bit wide. Her smirk goes even wider.

“I think you’ve become my favorite client.”

Cloud’s almost giddy when she begins shimmying her way up his body. Her legs are around his ears, and wow. _Wow wow wow wow wow_.

Tifa is probably the hottest woman he’s ever fucking seen.

He wonders where this sudden burst of confidence comes from when he’d been so bashful about his erection just minutes before. Maybe his desire to please her trumps all other worries he may have. His arms come around her thighs, one of his hands gently pulling at the skin above her clit. It’s hard and needy for attention, and he’s glad to give it just that; the first flick of his tongue has her jolting, mewling. He licks again, experimenting, liking the taste of her. Her hands bunch into his hair, and she begins to move her hips into his mouth, rubbing her clit against his tongue.

“Feels good,” she moans. “Suck on it. Please.”

He obliges, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking. She’s fidgeting and moaning, and he sets a quick but steady rhythm, alternating between sucks and long, languid strokes of his tongue. Tifa tastes like heaven in his mouth, and he savors the way she gasps his name, pulls at his hair as she begins to grow manic from his touches.

“Cloud, _Cloud_ , I’m gonna—”

Tifa’s thighs begin to tremble around his ears. She comes apart on his tongue, chanting his name, shuddering and arching her back. He doesn’t relent, keeps sucking hard on her clit, holding her in place so she doesn’t move away. She’s jerking, her skin flushed, shining in a thin layer of sweat.

She looks so beautiful when she comes.

“Too much!” she whines. “Cloud, it’s too much!”

When he pulls away, the lower part of his face is slick in her arousal. He licks at as much of it as he can with his tongue, staring at the wetness of her thighs as she moves off of him, catching her breath and gathering her wits. She ties her kimono back up, and he gets off the table, suddenly doused in a wave of shame.

Did he just...with his hot masseuse? Was any of that even legal? What the _fuck_?

It _is_ Wall Market, after all. Tifa turns to him, smoothing down her hair.

“That was the luxury course.”

She winks at him. He feels the heat burn in his cheeks.

“Come back for more,” she tells him, throwing him the same towel that had been draped on him before. He uses it to wipe up the mess on his thighs.

She walks out, and he’s so very distracted by the sway of her hips as she does. And then, he thinks. He evaluates.

This may have been the best fucking idea Zack has ever fucking had.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3


End file.
